Unwritten
by Laineyvb131
Summary: Staring at the blank page before you/Open up the dirty window/Let the sun illuminate the words/That you could not find [Natasha Bedingfield, Unwritten] A series of drabbles based on prompts, as posted on Tumblr.
1. Something is clearly wrong

Prompt: Something is clearly wrong.

Henry sat on the kitchen floor, a wailing three year old Jason squirming in front of him. They'd planned to take the kids trick or treating after school, but those plans had quickly been derailed while attempting to dress Jason for the festivities. The little boy's blonde hair peeked through the the head of his dragon costume, barely, but his head was stuck in the piece resembling the neck of the animal. One arm fit through a sleeve, while the other dangled behind his back, near his knees. Elizabeth paced the tiles behind Henry, muttering to herself, while he tried to calm their son.

"Well, something is clearly wrong, here," said Henry, exasperated, tugging at material. "I thought you said you double checked the kids' sizes before buying their costumes."

"I just don't understand," Elizabeth replied, frustration evident in her voice. "I measured him three times. And I followed the pattern."

"Wait, what?" Henry gaped at his wife, incredulously, momentarily forgetting the screaming toddler in his arms. "You made this?"

"I borrowed Mrs. Davis's sewing machine," she confirmed. "You know, our next door neighbor? She showed me the basics, and I followed the pattern." Elizabeth gestured toward a near-hysterical Jason. "Obviously, I didn't do something right."

"Why did you need to make this, babe? I thought you took all the kids to that costume store that pops up in the strip mall every Halloween."

"I did. The girls were easy. Princess costumes are apparently always popular. But Jason wanted to be a dragon. And we couldn't find a dragon costume. Do you know how fun a screaming three year old can be in public the day before Halloween? I sure wasn't going to be nominated mom-of-the-year at any point. I think I might have yelled. A lot." Elizabeth ended her tirade on a huff of breath.

Henry finally managed to untangle Jason from the mess, and the little boy lunged into arms, knocking Henry back into the cabinets.

"You couldn't talk him into anything else?" His voice held a hint of accusation.

Elizabeth snorted. "This is Jason we're talking about here, Henry. What do you think? Have you ever gotten him to change his mind about anything?" Then her whole body sagged in defeat. "Yeah, I guess you have. You've been their dad for months. I just wanted to be a mom, and make him happy, since I've been gone so much. Clearly, I can't be a good mom."

"Hold on. No one is saying you aren't a good mom." Henry struggled to his feet with Jason in his arms. Jason reached for her, and Elizabeth shifted the little boy onto her hip, cuddling him into the crook of her neck.

"I guess my sewing skills are on par with my cooking skills, then." She still looked dejected, and Henry leaned over Jason to kiss her lightly on the cheek.

"Ah, but you have so many other talents I appreciate, babe." He winked at her, suggestively.

Just then, Stevie and Alison ran into the kitchen. "Daddy, Mommy, look! We're beautiful princesses," they declared in unison.

"Yes, you are." Henry confirmed. "Both of you are just gorgeous." He motioned with a finger for his daughters to twirl again.

Suddenly, Stevie stopped, eyes wide. "Why isn't Jason dressed? We need to go," she exclaimed.

"The dragon had a bit of a mishap, so Jason is going to be a ghost for Halloween instead," Henry explained.

"A ghost?" Elizabeth looked at him, skeptically. "How are you going to pull that off?"

"The old stand by, babe. A white sheet and scissors. Can you get a sheet out of the linen closet? Let me deal with the rest, though. You're clearly Halloween challenged."


	2. I don't want to talk about it

Prompt: I don't want to talk about it.

Elizabeth planted her boot in Buttercup's stirrup and swing herself onto the horse's back. Fresh snow had fallen the night before, and she couldn't wait to go riding in the pristine blanket of white. She'd just gathered the reins when a muffled thud sounded behind her.

"Ow!"

Elizabeth jerked in the saddle and swung Buttercup around to face the stables. Henry sat in nearly a foot of snow, powder in his hair, while Daisy stared at him placidly.

"Henry! What the…?" Elizabeth cut short her exclamation when Henry held up his hand, gingerly. She bit her lip in concern as she watched him mentally check his body for injuries. When he shifted to stand, her worry gave way to mirth, and she started giggling.

Only Henry's eyes were visible through the scarf and hat he wore, and both were covered in white. He glared at her from the depths of his winter gear. "I don't want to talk about it."

"But you've never fallen from a horse before!" Elizabeth's astonishment rang through the frigid air.

"I don't want to talk about it," Henry repeated, more adamantly, this time.

Sensing his distress, Elizabeth slid gracefully from Buttercup's saddle. "Are you hurt?"

"Only my pride," he retorted. "And none of you seem to care." Henry indicated Elizabeth and the horses in one sweep of his arm, dislodging more of the snow from his coat. He brushed angrily at his sleeves. Elizabeth left Buttercup's reins and trudged her way to his side.

Elizabeth patted Daisy's flanks, pushing her a little farther away from Henry, as she reached out to touch his arm. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have laughed," she apologized. "For what it's worth, the girls don't think any less of you." They both looked at the horses, now standing at the edge of the barn, munching on hay.

"And you?" He asked, suspiciously.

"I don't think any less of you, either," Elizabeth reassured him. "But maybe we should start the morning at a slower pace," she suggested. She held out her gloved hand, as a peace offering. "Let's take a walk, instead. I'll take the horses for a run this afternoon."

Henry considered her seriously for a moment, before breaking into a grin and grasping her fingers. "Only if you promise to take care of me later."


	3. You know I'm going to win, right?

"Are you trying to take advantage of me?" Elizabeth squinted at the tumbler Henry filled to the rim, for what, the fourth time that night? She'd lost track, and at this point, wasn't entirely sure the glass hadn't multiplied.

"You'd better believe it," Henry admitted, setting the bottle of bourbon on the coffee table. He leaned across the couch as if to kiss her, but instead whipped a long box from under the cushions with a flourish.

"I want a rematch," he declared. Henry laid the Scrabble game on the table next to the liquor. They'd been dating for six months, and he'd never been able to beat her. Elizabeth was ruthlessly competitive at board games, a trait that delighted Henry. They were usually equally matched in most competitions. Except for Scrabble.

"You know I'm going to win, right?" Elizabeth warned him, confidently.

Henry snickered. "You're completely plastered, babe."

"So are you," she replied. "And I'm still going to win. You can't beat me at Scrabble. I can spell supercalifragilisticexpialidocious backwards."

He raised an eyebrow at her declaration. "There aren't enough letters to play that word, so I think I'm okay. Besides, you can barely say it." Henry gestured adamantly with his glass, sloshing liquid onto his pants.

"Whatever. Think what you want." She shrugged, dismissively, and began laying out the game board.

Henry contemplated her for a minute. Her fingers deftly handled the tiles, not nearly as clumsy as his after so much liquor, and her eyes had lost their inebriated haze.

"Well," he conceded, "Can we at least play strip Scrabble?"

"Sure," Elizabeth agreed, a glint in her eye. "That's the only way you're winning anything tonight."


	4. I don't wanna talk about it

Drabble prompt: I don't wanna talk about it. (Different version)

"Elizabeth?"

Henry strode hurriedly toward their bedroom, worry racing through his mind. The shower had stopped running nearly 15 minutes prior, and Elizabeth wasn't answering him. He pushed open the door and stopped abruptly as he encountered his pregnant wife sitting on the edge of their bed, sobbing. A towel haphazardly draped around her body, and her blonde hair curled in damp tendrils around her face.

Henry crouched down in front of Elizabeth, hands on her bare knees. "Elizabeth, are you okay?" he asked, barely masking the anxiety in his voice. "Is the baby okay?"

She nodded, tears welling in her blue eyes. "I'm fine. She's fine," Elizabeth shakily reassured him, laying a hand on her rounded belly.

Relief flooded through him as Henry rocked back on his heels. "What is it, then?" He laid his hand over hers in encouragement.

"I don't wanna talk about it," Elizabeth muttered, sniffling loudly.

Henry paused a moment, contemplating his next question. Elizabeth was six months pregnant, and while the peak of her second trimester brought a welcome relief from her extended morning sickness, she'd also been swamped by raging hormones. Henry didn't mind some of the changes- they spent a great deal of their free time having sex somewhere in the house- but he was at a loss to navigate the drastic, sudden mood swings so uncharacteristic of Elizabeth's personality.

"Babe, I need you to talk about it," he prodded gently. "We have to leave in ten minutes."

Henry's revelation triggered a fresh onslaught of tears.

They'd planned to attend an afternoon matinee of the latest movie release, The Lion King, although Henry was a bit apprehensive about the potential effects of a Disney saga on his constantly emotional wife. Their date was a concession to the end of his most recent assignment with the NSA, and an attempt to provide some normalcy amidst the unchartered territory of their first pregnancy.

"I can't shave my legs," Elizabeth blurted out.

At Henry's bemused expression, she continued, tripping over her words, "I tried to shave my legs in the shower, and I can't bend over anymore."

Henry nearly laughed, before he caught himself. "Elizabeth, it's fine," he reassured her.

"No, it's not fine," she nearly shouted at him. "I wanted to look nice, not fat and dumpy, and I can't wear a dress now because I can't shave my legs."

"Babe." Henry took a deep breath, and dove in. "You're not fat and dumpy. You're pregnant. And beautiful. No one can see your legs, and I don't mind."

Elizabeth glared at Henry, and then scrubbed her hands over her face. She dropped her head back, staring at the ceiling, sighing deeply. "God, what's wrong with me?" she asked Henry, helplessly. "I never cry like this. I feel like an alien has inhabited my body."

"Sorry, baby girl," Elizabeth chuckled, as the baby kicked in response. "But seriously, Henry, its July. I can't wear pants in this heat, and I can't not shave my legs until the baby is born," she stated, firmly.

Henry shifted to sit next to his wife on the bed. "I'll shave your legs," he offered.

"What?" Elizabeth mirrored his earlier confusion.

"Well, why not? I shave my face every day. Surely I can handle your legs," he concluded with a shrug. "Besides, I'll enjoy your legs much more than my face." He wiggled his eyebrows, grinning cheekily at Elizabeth. "Think about how sexy that could be." Henry prodded, eager to make his wife happy again.

"You've got a point." Her smile slowly crept across her face as she rubbed her belly soothingly.

"Do you still want to go to the movie?" he asked, as Elizabeth visibly relaxed. "We can stay here, instead."

"No, we've had this planned for a week," she insisted. "I just need to figure out what to wear."

"What about the long dress you wore to the Fourth of July picnic? The red one with the straps." Henry suggested. He traced a line over her shoulder with his fingertips, raising goosebumps on her skin. "You could take one of my button down shirts in case you're cold."

"I'm never cold anymore," Elizabeth admitted, rolling her eyes. "In addition to turning me into a raving lunatic, your child is a furnace."

"We timed this pregnancy wrong, in that case," Henry concluded. "We could've saved money on the heating bill over the winter."

"You're telling me," Elizabeth agreed, then leaned over to kiss her husband. "Let me get dressed. I'll be quick. Or as quick as I can be," she laughed ruefully. She used his knee as leverage to push herself off the mattress.

Henry sighed as he watched Elizabeth walk to their closet and sort through her clothes. _Crisis averted._ He wandered back to the living room, gathering the papers he'd been reading, with the intent to sit on the couch to wait for his wife.

Elizabeth suddenly appeared at the doorway, sandals in hand. "Henry," she ventured tentatively, "I can't put on my shoes, either."


	5. I'm not jealous

Drabble prompt: I'm not jealous (continued in Lady in Red)

Henry closed the front door behind him, the air-conditioning of their farmhouse providing a cool sigh of relief from the heat of the late Virginia summer. He watched the muscles in Elizabeth's back, bare above the bodice of her dress, as she set down her evening bag on the foyer table. A strange tension had bubbled between them all night, simmering just under their interactions throughout the faculty banquet they'd attended at University of Virginia. Henry couldn't quite determine the reason, and Elizabeth had said nothing other than in superficial conversation with their colleagues.

"You're jealous," Henry noted, suddenly, the first words either of them had spoken since they'd gotten in their car for the drive home. Her spine snapped sharply at this comment, blonde curls spilling over the shoulders she straightened.

Elizabeth turned to Henry, slowly, deliberately. "I'm not jealous." Her voice was tinged with indignation, and something else, entirely. Amusement, perhaps? Her face showed no hint of emotion, but her eyes dared him to challenge her.

Henry quirked an eyebrow in silent argument, the barest hint of a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. "If you say so." He shrugged out of his suit jacket, laying it across the table.

"I was making a statement," Elizabeth clarified firmly. He'd agree with her on that fact, at least. Her fire-engine red dress slicked down her body, following her curves as smoothly his hands often did, lips boldly painted to match. She'd taken more care with her makeup than usual, smoky charcoal highlighting her eyes. "Some people needed a reminder," she continued, enunciating each word carefully. Elizabeth stepped toward her husband, eyes blazing blue fire. She grasped his tie in her fingers, tugging Henry closer to her. As his hands molded her hips, Elizabeth stretched up on her toes until their eyes were level. "You're mine," she murmured against his lips, before taking his mouth in a heated kiss.

Henry let their passion consume them for a long moment, then pulled her away from him. "Wait. What do you mean?" he asked, confusion warring with his desire. Henry squeezed her waist gently when Elizabeth didn't respond immediately, but observed him with a smirk, instead.

"You deserve all of the accolades they gave you tonight," Elizabeth acknowledged, more seriously now, releasing his tie to lay her hand over his heart. "But I don't like other women fawning over my husband. No matter how gorgeous and intelligent he is." Her other hand cupped Henry's face, fingers tracing his jawline, rubbing a thumb over his lips.

She moved to kiss him again, but he stopped her by pressing on her hips, causing her to step back to maintain her balance in her shoes. "I don't care about those women," Henry insisted, understanding dawning at Elizabeth's reference to the wives of his fellow professors. "I don't want anyone but you."

"I know," Elizabeth acquiesced. "But they didn't, and you weren't discouraging them," she pointed out. "So I reminded them who you belong to."

Her gaze locked on his, Elizabeth reached behind her, the zipper of her dress echoing in the silence. As she straightened her arms, a slight shrug sent the dress shimmering to the floor. The dim light in the hallway drenched her naked body in shadows and sin, sparkling off the glittery straps of her heels.

"Elizabeth," Henry stuttered. Her name caught in his throat, his hazel eyes darkening with lust.

Elizabeth bit her lip, her smile purely predatory, full of promise. "Maybe you need a reminder, too."


	6. Sometimes you have to think of

Drabble prompt: Sometimes you have to think of yourself as a priority.

Henry found his eyes drifting of their own accord to his computer, far from focused on the text from which he was trying to take notes for his latest research. He hadn't thought about it in several years, didn't think he needed to, but now…

A gentle caress on his shoulder startled Henry from his reverie.

"Are you coming to bed, babe?" Elizabeth asked, softly, through a yawn. "It's late."

Henry glanced at his wife, almost guiltily, shifting away from the screen toward her. He knew Elizabeth had gone to bed quite awhile ago, but had no idea of the time. "What are you doing awake?" Henry wondered, looking at the clock on his desk."At 2am?"

"Ally's teeth woke her," Elizabeth informed him. "She's had a hard time with this round."

Henry slid his chair back suddenly and moved to stand up. "I didn't even hear her cry," he admitted.

The pressure of Elizabeth's hand stopped his motion. "I got her. Some Tylenol and cuddles, and she's back asleep."

"I'm sorry," Henry apologized. "I should've heard the baby before she woke you."

"Babe, it's fine," Elizabeth soothed her husband, much as she had just calmed their daughter. "But you need some sleep. Don't you have to be on campus in the morning?"

"Yeah, I just wanted to finish taking notes on this chapter." Henry looked back down at his papers. "I haven't gotten very far," he sighed in resignation.

"Why don't you give it up for the night?" Elizabeth suggested. "There's always tomorrow." She combed her hand softly through his hair, and leaned over to kiss his forehead.

"That's not Aquinas," she murmured softly, noticing the browser window glowing in the dark of the room. "Virginia Department of Aviation," Elizabeth read off the screen, then her eyes widened in recognition. "Are you thinking about flying again, Henry? You haven't been in a cockpit since you left the Marines."

"Yes. No. I don't know," Henry stuttered uncharacteristically. "I couldn't get it out of my mind the past few days, but I'm not sure I want to, much less have the time."

"I can't help with your desire to fly again," Elizabeth acknowledged, "but we can make the time."

"Babe…" Henry began to protest. Elizabeth shifted to sit on the edge of his desk, blocking the books and computer screen, to get his full attention.

"Henry, you do so much around the house, with the girls, even with Janie around." Her voice was low and adamant. "You're always with them, or working on your research. You need some time to yourself."

"I enjoy spending time with the girls, and I have the more flexible schedule of the two of us."

"I know you do, and I really appreciate you." Elizabeth paused for emphasis. "I couldn't have a career without you, not as demanding as this one can be. But sometimes you have to think of yourself as a priority."

"Our family is my priority, Elizabeth," Henry insisted.

Elizabeth sensed she wouldn't succeed in her argument, and perhaps even unintentionally diminish Henry's role in their family, so she changed tactics. "Weren't you the one that insisted I go riding last month, when I couldn't get work off my mind?" she reminded him. "Granted, I was snapping at everyone, so I still think you were just trying to get rid of me." Elizabeth shrugged ruefully. "You told me I shouldn't feel guilty about taking time for myself, so I could be a better mom and wife."

Henry didn't respond, but his eyes focused thoughtfully.

"Well, hi, pot, I'm kettle," Elizabeth concluded with a smirk.

Now Henry laughed. "Alright, I'll think about it," he conceded.

Elizabeth slid her hand down Henry's arm to link her fingers with his, tugging him to his feet. He reached behind her to switch off his desk lamp, then slid his arms around Elizabeth's waist, drawing her into his embrace.

"Just don't join the mile high club with anyone else," she warned, her voice muffled in the crook of his neck.

"Never, babe," Henry promised. He kissed her hair, then shifted his lips closer to her ear. "Did I ever tell you about the fantasy I have with you and an airplane?"

Elizabeth shivered at the sudden desire in his voice. "No, but come to bed, and you can now."


	7. No Rules Saturday

WARNING: *This is most definitely rated M*

Added today to the list of things I'd never thought I'd say: "I don't have smut, but I have puppies." I was actually holding puppies at the time. Now, I actually do have smut. Unadulterated filthy smut. Don't say I didn't warn you.

I might actually use this comment as a prompt someday. For now, its just an excuse to post this...um... yeah.

I'm going back to the puppies. They don't make me blush.

* * *

"Elizabeth."

She turned from her dresser, clad only in a tank and panties, yoga pants in one hand.

Henry lounged against the door frame, watching her, his body language almost predatory. He held something in his fist, obscured by the breadth of his fingers.

"Its no Rules Saturday." His voice was all sinful promise.

_Oh, God_. Her breasts grew heavy, swollen, her nipples hard and peaked against the soft cotton. Henry's eyes raked her body, darkening at the physical evidence of her reaction to him.

"And it's my turn."

Elizabeth struggled to focus through the sudden haze of passion in her head, the arousal pulsing through her veins. Henry crowded her against the dresser, not quite touching her body, but she felt the heat emanating from his torso. His pupils flared with desire. More than just desire. Hunger. For her.

"These are Ben Wa balls. They're designed to increase your pleasure." Henry held up his hand, in her peripheral vision, and a string of balls fell from his fingers, dangling like chimes. Elizabeth couldn't look away from him, couldn't focus on anything but the compelling lust in his gaze. She'd let him do whatever he asked, take whatever he wanted from her. And he knew it.

"I put them in you here." His fingers lightly pressed the damp fabric on her panties, and she bucked in response. "Every time you move, you'll feel them, and you'll want more. You'll do anything, your pussy will crave the pleasure, but you won't orgasm." His grin flashed wickedly.

Elizabeth spread her legs, wordlessly pleading for more. She craved his domination of her body, the frenzied, uninhibited sex. She rubbed her thigh against his cock, hard and erect under his boxers. At least he was as affected as she.

"Huh uh," Henry chastised her as he stepped back, pushing more firmly against her clit, through the satin. He grunted at the rush of moisture under his fingers. "This isn't about me. You'll be begging me to finish you, again and again, before I'm ready to fuck you."

"That's it," Henry murmured his approval when Elizabeth leaned back against the wood, opening herself to him. He slid his hand down her belly, under the waistband of her panties, just cupping the wiry curls covering her slick flesh.

"You're so wet, baby. You want this."

_Yes_. The word echoed in her brain, but Elizabeth just nodded, entranced, reduced to needy whimpers, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge of the dresser.

Henry held the fabric of her underwear aside with one hand, while using the other to gently slide the circular objects inside her body. His movements were slow, torturous, drawing a long, keening moan from her lips. Henry growled, low in his throat, as her muscles clenched around each ball he pressed into her.

Elizabeth felt the pressure building like waves, rushing through her, crashing, then receding, leaving delicious pleasure in the wake. The air seemed to thicken, to clog her lungs, set her skin on fire. She gasped, and forced herself to exhale, but she couldn't relax, couldn't ease the coiling tension in her core.

"Fuck, Elizabeth, you're so tight. I can feel your clit throbbing already." He barely brushed the bundle of nerves with a fingertip. "You're going to explode when I finally touch you." Elizabeth trembled at his breath, hot on her skin, his mouth teasing just at her pulsepoint.

"This Saturday has two rules. One, you can't touch yourself. Not unless I give you permission." He suckled at the base of her neck, marking her lightly. "And two, I get to decide when I take these out of you." His teeth nipped her earlobe, just enough to sting. He gently straightened her underwear, running his hands over the lace and satin to smooth it against her skin.

"Enjoy yoga, baby."


	8. You can't banish me this is my bed, too

Submitted by anonymous: You can't banish me! This is my bed, too!

Also, for morethanwords229: Did you just hiss at me?

Did I cheat, combining two prompts, or do I get extra credit?

* * *

Elizabeth jolted awake, barely suppressing a moan.

_Not already._

She struggled to focus through the fog in her brain; something had woken her, but she wasn't sure what that something was. She shifted slightly, motherly instincts tuned for the baby, despite her exhaustion. She felt her breasts- a good way to indicate if she needed to nurse again- but they were still soft, or relatively so. Jason was feeding every two hours, but was still asleep in the bassinet next to her bed. Relieved he wasn't awake, Elizabeth tried to doze off again.

_What the hell is that noise? _

"Henry."

No response. The harsh, grating sound cut through the quiet darkness of their bedroom.

Elizabeth flailed her arm across the bedsheets, her hand finally finding the lump that was her husband. "Henry!" He still didn't move.

She smacked him harder. Henry mumbled in his sleep, and rolled over, but didn't wake. The noise, however, stopped. And then resumed again, louder than before.

_Are you kidding me? _

Elizabeth gently scooted across the mattress to press her body against Henry's back. She drew back slightly with the pressure on her sensitive breasts.

_Shit. Ouch. I hate these things._

Grasping his shoulder, Elizabeth shook her husband as she whispered his name, as loudly as she dared.

Henry shot upright in bed. Elizabeth skittered backwards just in time to avoid an elbow jabbing into her chest. "Whaaaa? What's wrong?"

"Henry, you're so loud, you're going to wake the baby. And I can't sleep."

"What?" Henry mumbled, confused in his sleepy haze.

"You're snoring."

"No, I'm not. I don't snore."

"Yes, you do. You've gotta go sleep somewhere else. Go out on the couch," Elizabeth demanded of her baffled husband. She shoved a pillow at him, and gestured vaguely in the direction of their bedroom door.

"You can't banish me! This is my bed, too!"

"Until you can make milk, yes, I can. I'm exhausted. I need to sleep. And if Jason starts crying, I might actually smother you."

"Let me take some of the night feedings. I told you I would."

"When I can go longer than two hours without my boobs exploding, I'll gladly take you up on that offer. But we're not there yet, and Jason still takes so long to eat, I don't have time to pump at night. So babe, I say this with love, but either shut up, or get out."

"I don't believe you. I never snore."

"Yes, you do. When you're really tired, or drunk, you snore." Elizabeth tempered her tone. "I know you've been working most of the night on your research to help with the kids when you can. I

appreciate it, I do." Empathy aside, she didn't relent. "But growing a baby trumps writing a book. Out."

"Fine. I'll go sleep in the trundle bed in the girls' room."

"No." Elizabeth grabbed his arm as Henry started to get up.

"Did you just hiss at me?"

Elizabeth ignored his accusation. "You'll wake them. Daycare is closed tomorrow, and Alison will be a nightmare if she doesn't get enough sleep."

"There's no way I'm that loud." He rolled off the mattress and snatched his pillow.

"Henry, I'm serious. Couch. Or else you can take two grumpy girls and a baby to your lecture in the morning."

"Fine." Even in the dark, Elizabeth could tell when Henry rolled his eyes at her. She just couldn't be bothered to care.

"You just said that. Goodnight, Henry."

Suddenly, Elizabeth saw a shadow appear on the floor behind Henry.

"Daddy? I'm scared." Alison peered around her father, illuminated by the light from the hallway. "Mommy, there's a bear under my bed."

Elizabeth barely suppressed a snicker as she glared pointedly at Henry. "Told you. She's all yours."

To Allison, she promised, "Daddy will find the bear, baby. Go back to bed."

As Alison and Henry headed down the hallway to tackle the bear, Jason began to whimper from his bassinet beside the bed.

"I was hoping you'd sleep through that. Wishful thinking," Elizabeth murmured as she gently gathered her son in her arms.

Elizabeth felt the tell-tale tingling in her breasts as her milk let down. "It's that time again, huh, kiddo? Those are the fastest two hours known to man, I swear."

"Let's get you fed, then see if we can get some sleep now that we've banished the bear."


	9. Enough with your sass

Drabble prompt: Enough with your sass, for teaismyqueen

* * *

Henry looked up from his laptop as Elizabeth's heels clicked down the hallway toward their bedroom. She'd come upstairs immediately after he heard the front door close, which was unusual for her. Elizabeth almost always detoured to the kitchen, and Henry knew he was the reason she deviated from her routine tonight.

"Hey, babe," he called out as Elizabeth appeared in the doorway. Even in the soft light of the bedroom, Henry could feel the waves of exhaustion wafting from her body.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." She nearly sighed in relief at finally being home, in the shelter of their bedroom.

Elizabeth kicked off her shoes, leaving them in her wake as she strode to the bed. Her hair draped them both in a curtain of sunshine as she took his mouth in a long kiss.

"How was your day?" Henry asked gently after she drew away.

Elizabeth wrenched off her jacket, tossing it in the direction of their closet. "Not worth talking about right now."

"That bad, huh?"

Her skirt came next, with a jerk of the zipper, added to the growing mound of clothes on the floor. "Just frustrating." She offered a soft smile, tempering her tone. "That helped," Elizabeth replied, indicating their kiss. She ran a hand through her hair while she assessed Henry's bandaged legs laying on top of the blankets. "But I'm not the one who's been stuck in bed."

"I'm fine," he reassured her. "I've been researching most of the day." Henry patted the stack of books on the mattress next to him. "Stevie brought me dinner before she went out, and the pain is better."

Henry noticed the gleam shining in his wife's blue eyes, a stark contrast to the fog of distress from a moment before. "What is it?"

"Nothing." Elizabeth waved off his question.

"Something." Henry pressed, observing her closely. He knew her too well.

Elizabeth ducked her head, almost sheepishly, tucking wayward blonde strands behind her ears. "Well, you laying there, in all those books, with your glasses on…." She looked up with a wicked grin. "Professor McCord is a turn on, what can I say?"

"Oh yeah?" Henry tilted his head, a knowing smile teasing the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah." Elizabeth huffed out a breath. "Soooooo," she dragged out the word, "I'm just gonna go take a cold shower." She jerked a thumb in the direction of their bathroom. "Then I'll scrounge up something for dinner."

"Why?"

"Why dinner?" Her eyebrows shot up, surprised that he even had to ask. "Because I'm starving." Henry could hear the 'well, duh' she didn't add. "And a plate full of carbs and a big glass of wine are the next best thing to sex." She clicked her tongue and slashed her index finger in the air. "Checks both boxes. Add in a hot professor, and I might be able to salvage the rest of this day."

"Why the cold shower?" Henry clarified. "Or the alternative?" The insult in Henry's expression masked his enjoyment from teasing his wife out of her mood.

"Don't try to convince me you're ready for sex." Elizabeth gestured to his lower body, ignoring his mock indignation. "I heard you groaning in your sleep last night. I'm not gonna hurt you just because I'm horny and need to blow off some stress." She snorted at her unintended innuendo.

Elizabeth headed toward their en suite, unbuttoning her blouse as she did, dismissing the conversation.

"Come here."

The raw desire in Henry's command nearly compelled her to obey. But not quite yet. She paused for a moment, waiting for his next move.

"Elizabeth." Her name drifted like smoke across the room, low and sensual.

When Elizabeth turned back to her husband, he added his laptop to the pile of books now piled on his bedside table. "Just because I'm immobile doesn't mean I can't satisfy you."

Elizabeth caught her bottom lip in her teeth, swinging her body slightly side to side playfully. "Maybe I can satisfy myself," she replied with a smirk.

"Not in that cold shower you won't."

Intrigued by Henry's response, Elizabeth stepped closer to the bed. Her fingers slowed on the buttons, intentionally tantalizing her husband.

"Maybe I'll take a bath instead. A long hot bath." When she reached the hem of her blouse, she tugged at the material, teasing him with glimpses of bare skin.

"You won't enjoy it nearly as much without me."

"Maybe I will." She licked her lips, then suckled the tip of her index finger before drawing a line from her throat to the front clasp of her bra.

Henry's gaze followed her movements as she brushed aside the halves of her blouse and began tracing the lacy satin underneath. He swallowed hard when her fingertips grazed her peaked nipples through the material.

"Your fingers won't feel as good as mine," Henry promised.

"I have a vibrator." Elizabeth's hands dropped lower, drifting across her belly, tracing the edge of the lace along her hip bone.

Henry shrugged, the nonchalance in his gesture betrayed by the lust clouding his eyes. "When you can't get enough, with your sass and your vibrator, I'll be here waiting."

"You think you can do better?" She didn't bother to hide the teasing lit in her retort.

"I know I can."

So did she, and her body responded to the knowledge. Arousal flooded her panties, and she barely held back a moan. As much fun as she was having with their banter, the throbbing in her core grew too insistent to ignore.

Elizabeth flicked her hands over her shoulders and sent soft cotton slithering to her feet. "Well, what did you have in mind?"

Henry growled low in his throat as his wife stood before him in nothing but shimmery black lace. "Get naked and I'll show you."


	10. Stay Awake

Drabble prompt: Stay awake, for lilacmermaid25

* * *

_A random Christmas Eve at the McCord house_

"Elizabeth." Henry pored over the instruction booklet for Alison's dollhouse, setting down the screwdriver in his hand to run his fingers through his wife's hair absentmindedly.

"Mmmmm," she mumbled. Elizabeth was curled like a cat next to her husband, her head pillowed in the crook of his leg and pelvis, wine glass dangling precariously from her fingertips as she stared into the fire.

"Stay awake." He jostled her with his knee, knocking her head askew on his leg.

"Hey! That wasn't necessary," she sputtered, throwing out a forearm to brace herself as she slid off his flannel pajama pants. "You're gonna spill my wine." She managed to catch the glass before it tipped on the fluffy rug.

"You're really hopeless as an elf, you know that," Henry admonished lightly. "Santa would fire you. You never stay awake."

"I do, too," Elizabeth protested. "I was awake. Just comfortable." She sat up and faced him, her legs crossed, the firelight illuminating her blonde hair.

"Sure you were. You promised to help me put together Jason's bike." He looked pointedly at the pile of red metal and black rubber in the corner. "Planning on doing that in your sleep?"

"I was getting to it. It's only nine-thirty. We have all night."

"You say that every year, too. And yet every year, I end up doing this alone."

"I help, she insisted, flinging out her arm in emphasis, catching herself before the liquid sloshed over the rim of the glass.

"You help finish off the all the wine we get as Christmas gifts, maybe." He gestured to the hearth, where an empty bottle and half of another sat on the brick.

"I do more than that."

Henry snorted. "The lady doth protest too much, methinks."

Elizabeth changed tactics when she realized he was probably right. Not that she'd admit it.

"You know, if men knew how sexy they looked fixing stuff, they'd never stop." She leaned forward to nip at his earlobe before he could pull away.

"Huh, uh. No sex." Henry reached for stack of white papers next to him, thrusting them at her with a rustle. "Not until this is finished." He pushed the toolbox toward her with his foot. "We narrowly averted a disaster last year when the kids almost found their naked parents under the Christmas tree, instead of presents."

"I didn't hear you complaining. In fact, I remember you begging. And some very un-Santa-like cursing." Elizabeth took the instruction booklet from him, tossing it into the corner with the unassembled bike parts without so much as a glance.

"I wasn't complaining, babe, but I'd have thrown you under that bus if Santa hadn't shown up. We're lucky we got cold when the fire went out and woke up before the kids."

He pointed the screw driver at her. "Santa, then sex."

Elizabeth smirked at his comment, thinking of the red lace and satin lingerie she had hidden in their closet.

"I do have a present you can unwrap later since you've been such a good dad." She gestured to the toys he'd assembled already. "You've got the nice covered. Maybe I'll just stay on the naughty list." She topped off her wine generously, red sparkling through the glass in the firelight.

Henry just shook his head, a smile teasing his lips, anticipating the inevitable.

"I'll finish this glass, then I'm on it." Elizabeth laid down on her stomach, resting her head on her folded arms, tilted slightly to watch her husband. "I'm just going to enjoy the view for awhile."

* * *

Elizabeth blinked blearily at the sound of her name, Henry's hand warm on her chilled shoulder. The room was nearly dark, coals from the fire barely simmering a deep orange. Her arms were stiff, and she propped herself up on her elbows with a groan.

"Hey, sleepyhead." Henry squatted down in front of her. "Santa's been here." He jerked his head toward the tree, where multicolored lights softly illuminated a fully assembled dollhouse and red bicycle.

"Whatimeizit?" Elizabeth rolled onto her back, and peered at Henry's now-upside-down-face through her sleep-tousled hair .

"Just after one. Come on. Time for bed." He stepped over her and reached his arms down to help her stand.

Elizabeth let him take most of her weight as he pulled her to her feet. "Hmmm… well, since you haven't yet said 'I told you so', maybe Santa needs to bring your present, too." She leaned into him, snuggling into his warmth, nuzzling her face into his neck.

"Babe, the kids will be up before dawn." Henry sighed wearily, anticipating the madness of Christmas morning. He brushed his hands down her arms before pulling her away, turning her towards their bedroom. "And I didn't get a nap tonight," he reminded her.

Elizabeth waved off his concerns, and his veiled sarcasm, with a flick of her wrist. "They'll invariably all crash after lunch and we can sneak in a nap." She peered back at him through lowered lashes, catching her lower lip between her teeth. "Trust me, babe. It'll be worth it."

"Oh, I don't doubt that." Henry scooped Elizabeth up in his arms, causing her to giggle. "Come on, Mrs. Claus. Let's see how naughty you can be."


	11. Christmas morning

I'm a bit _meh_ about this drabble, but I promised fluff, so fluff it is. I wrote this based on the prompt "It's six o'clock in the morning, babe, you're not having vodka" a few months ago, as somewhat of a sequel to the "Stay Awake" drabble. I apparently was in a Christmas mood in October (ironic, since I'm not in one on December 19).

I feel like I need a gif of Henry in a Santa hat for illustration.

* * *

"Coffee, please, for the love of God." Elizabeth stumbled blearily through the doorway, her ears ringing with her children's happy screeching at their Christmas presents.

"And turn that off!" she admonished Henry, who had followed her into the kitchen and flipped on the overhead light.

"Merry Christmas to you, too," Henry replied, as cheerfully as he could muster.

"We covered the 'merry' already," Elizabeth grumbled, fishing frantically through the pockets of her robe.

"That we did. Try to be more enthusiastic, would ya?." Henry tapped Elizabeth's glasses with his finger, sliding them from the top of her head down to her nose. He chuckled when she scrunched her face at him, blinking in surprise.

"I had plenty of enthusiasm, if you remember correctly. I'll have more once I get coffee." Focus renewed, Elizabeth padded to the corner cabinets, banging doors in her haste, all while muttering under her breath.

"For someone who's complaining about the noise, you're sure making a lot of it," Henry pointed out. When Elizabeth ignored him, he moved to the coffee machine, which he had wisely set up the night before, anticipating his wife's hangover- and hatred of mornings. "There's no coffee over there, you know."

He glanced back over his shoulder at Elizabeth's triumphant 'ah ha'.

"It's six o'clock in the morning, babe, you're not having vodka."

Elizabeth squinted down at the object in her hand. She read the label, pursed her lips, then shoved the bottle back in the cabinet and grabbed another.

"Yes, I am, but I was actually looking for the bourbon." At Henry's dubious look, she responded, "A little hair of the dog always worked in college."

"No, what worked in college was youth," Henry resolutely corrected her. "We're slowly losing that advantage."

Elizabeth glared him. "It's Christmas morning and you're being insulting?"

"Not an insult. Reality."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Henry hid his amusement, schooling his expression into his lecture face.

"Despite the loss of our youth, we're all the more wiser now and have three beautiful kids." He paused, as if waiting for the punchline. "All of which were your idea." Henry grinned, as the din from the living room increased in volume, and Elizabeth cringed in response.

"The third one's on you." She waved the green bottle in his direction. "Even more reason to try this again."

"No, no bourbon. Just coffee." Henry thrust a porcelain mug at his wife, trying to quickly distract her, then thought better about his actions. He grabbed her hand instead and gently pressed her fingers around the steaming mug. "Try this." He took the Jameson from her other hand, and put it away.

Elziabeth took a gulp, yelped as the heat burned her mouth, then took another huge swallow.

"Careful." Henry appraised his wife for a minute, shaking his head in resignation. "I'm not going to say I told you so."

"Good. You didn't last night, and look where it got you."

"Hmmm…." He leaned in closer, murmuring his approval. "That was quite the present. I never expected Mrs. Claus to be that naughty."

Suddenly, Jason barrelled into the kitchen. Henry managed to dodge flailing arms and churning legs, but their three year old tackled his mother at full speed. Elizabeth jolted, barely managing to stabilize herself before spilling coffee everywhere.

"MOMMY! We want to open presents!"

Henry peeled their son off Elizabeth's legs. "Ok, Jase, tell your sisters we're coming." He turned Jason around, nudging him back towards the living room. "Mommy needs to satisfy her caffeine addiction."

As Elizabeth snorted, he retorted playfully, "You're such a Scrooge."

"I am not. I'm just not a morning person."

"Well, technically last night was this morning, so I'd say you're very good at mornings...," he trailed off, wagging his eyebrows at her suggestively, exaggerating his wink.

"Nope. Doesn't count. Last night was definitely last night. We've slept since then." She grimaced. "Kinda." Now she surveyed him suspiciously. "How come you don't look as bad as I feel?"

"You look radiant, babe."

"Uh, huh. Liar." She narrowed her eyes at him over the rim of her mug.

"Because I didn't drink nearly two bottles of wine last night," he put the words in air quotes, "while wrapping presents," Henry reminded her, unapologetically. He lowered his voice. "For the record, the sex was totally worth the two hours of sleep."

"It was, wasn't it." Elizabeth grinned smugly into her coffee.

Henry stepped behind Elizabeth and massaged her upper arms, squeezing her biceps gently. "Come on, babe, you're just gonna have to suck it up."

She jerked away from him. "You didn't just say that."

"Yeah, I did." A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"That's as bad as I told you so." As Henry's smile widened, she continued, "you're enjoying this way too much."

"Enjoying this, and you. And you'll enjoy every minute of Christmas morning." Henry cautiously wrapped his arms around his wife, drawing her back into his chest when she didn't protest. He nuzzled her neck, humming against her skin in contentment. "The kids will be blissfully happy for a few hours while you indulge in your love of cheesy Hallmark movies."

Elizabeth tilted her head to give him more access as Henry's lips trailed down to her collarbone. "Oohh, and then naptime." She perked up at the possibilities.

"Then naptime," Henry acknowledged, laughing at her predictability, "and maybe I'll enjoy you even more." He shuffled them both slowly toward their children's gleeful chatter and the glow of the Christmas tree. "Let's go, Mrs Claus."


	12. Faith Over Fear

_Elizabeth has doubts, and a decision to make. Based on a prompt from Mobazan. _

Elizabeth stood at the terminal window, chewing the inside of her lip, absentmindedly watching the organized chaos of air traffic on the tarmac outside as her thoughts raced frantically. Her stomach was bursting with rioting butterflies. This could only have one outcome, because she only purchased a one-way ticket. But her logic warred with her heart, and she still doubted her decision. She pressed a hand to her belly, trying to staunch the rising panic. Her breath fogged the glass as she inhaled deeply, then blew out a breath, and she rubbed away the condensation with the sleeve of her sweater.

Henry had been pushing her to move out with him for the summer while he was stationed in Miramar. This was their last chance to be together, he insisted, knowing he'd be deployed at the end of his flight training. She'd graduate in December, and then the CIA would dictate her own training location. And while she missed him tremendously, and knew he was right, part of her was downright terrified- that they wouldn't be the same, that time and circumstances had changed them both, too much, and their relationship couldn't survive. He belonged to the Marines now, not her, and their days wouldn't be filled with studying and books and passionate discussions of philosophers and politics. The distance wore on their relationship, snatching an hour here and there with Henry trying, and often failing, to mask his exhaustion from the 11-hour drive from Pensacola. He couldn't do the same from California, and the time zone from West Coast to East made coordinating their schedules difficult. They'd hardly spoken on the phone, and when they did, their conversations were more stilted and tense than loving and, well, normal. She'd listen with half an ear full of military terminology and flying exploits, but only heard half of his words. Her noncommittal responses were sufficient, or seemed to be anyway, and he'd dutifully ask about her latest classes or progress on her thesis. They still ended with "I love you," but that phrase was becoming more mechanical than meaningful. Even the frequency of Henry's letters had become more sporadic, which worried her more than she wanted to admit. But at least when she was here and he was there, she could pretend his absence was temporary and when she hung up the phone, could put aside her fears and trepidations of his life now. She'd figured out how to function quite well without him, and the gaping hole left by his absence shrunk a bit more each day. She could survive on her own, damnit, and would need to for longer than just the time he'd already been gone if they wanted a future together. To take this step was acknowledging reality, and she wasn't quite sure her heart could handle the outcome.

She felt silly asking to postpone her internship, like a besotted teenage girl who couldn't function without her high school crush. She had never been that girl, and always promised herself she never would be that girl. But that didn't mean she couldn't follow her heart, right? Love mattered, Henry had convinced her of that, first with his words, then with his actions. Their love mattered, and she had just as much responsibility as Henry did to protect that love. Elizabeth knew she'd secured one of the few highly coveted positions in The Company, and knowing she'd been groomed for the role added to the guilt of giving it up. She had several arguments prepared, none of them quite the truth, but convincing enough to her mind, anyway. Surprisingly, she didn't need any form of persuasion. Conrad Dalton had easily agreed to her request, seemingly unconcerned with temporarily losing his protegee. His response was a simple, "we'll have a place for you when you're ready, Bess. Your personal life is important, too. Enjoy your summer."

The last possible barrier removed, Elizabeth forced herself to make the choice she knew she would all along and booked her flight. She knew she loved Henry, knew she wanted to be with him, and couldn't see the rest of her life without him in it. So the faith he lived on had to sustain her, too- maybe not faith in some religion or higher power, but faith in them, in what they'd built, and in what they could be together.

So there she stood, a few possessions filling a small bag at her feet, books weighing down the backpack slung on her shoulder. She'd paid her rent for the summer, stopped the mail delivery. Most of her belongings remained in their apartment- her apartment now- knowing she'd be back in Charlottesville at least by September. But this was May, and the time loomed ahead, taunting her with the unknown. The tinny announcement from the gate attendant filtered into her consciousness, reminding her of the final boarding of her flight. She took a fortifying breath, and walked the few steps to the payphone in the corner. The buttons seemed heavy under her fingertips as she pressed the corresponding numbers, the dial tone jarring in the receiver against her ear. Their last interaction ended with accusations and angry words, and Elizabeth hadn't contacted Henry since to share her plans. As his voice droned through his message, and the long beep ended, she still hesitated, nearly too long. "Hi, babe. Um, it's me." The greeting tripped over her tongue, fraught with nerves. She cleared her throat, then plowed on. "I need you to pick me up at the San Diego Airport tonight. My flight lands at 9:35. American Airlines. I'll meet you at baggage claim." She rushed through the pertinent information before the answering machine cut her off. "Flight 1124, from Washington National." She laid her fingers against the metal tab to end the call, then paused. "I hope you still want me to come. I love you." Her voice thickened, heavy with emotion.

And with the final boarding call sounding through the terminal, she hung up the phone, shoved aside her anxiety, and took that leap of faith.


End file.
